BreathTaking
by fetishizedcalligraphy
Summary: A gender bender of small proportions! When the Boy Who Lived is no longer a boy, who will the gender switched Harry turn to? HPRW, NLLL
1. Chapter 1

Breath-Taking

Summary: When Harry finds something major missing from his life, who will help him?

Disclaimer: If I owned Potter, don't you think I'd make him give me a back rub?

Let's pretend for now that I do, and prepare to be delighted as you immerse yourselves in the PRE-SHOW ENTERTAINMENT!

Me (u can call me Sciurus, which is Latin 4 squirrel): Happy Thanksgiving!

Harry: Boy do I love turkey! about to sink fangs into innocent dead turkey

Sciurus: dives for drumstick in slo mo _Nooooooo!_

Harry: What's up your ass?

Sciurus: I think Eleanor is offended by that comment

angry donkey glares in Potter's general direction

Sciurus: Bad boy! First you eat Rothbart, then you make fun of my ass!

Harry: But Becky, look at your ass! It's so big!

giant donkey stamps hoof on ground angrily

Harry: Wait… Rothbart?

Sciurus: stands on table and makes tear-jerking speech to a background of uplifting music Remember, every turkey has a name, a mother, a father, and a cute lil red wattle. Don't eat a turkey; it just might be Rothbart! Indeed, look at it that every turkey is a Rothbart, capable of love and affection! holds hand over heart Imagine the peace, the joy that would result if we could live together in an interspecies brotherhood of tolerance!

Harry uses this distraction to seize turkey and sink his jaws into it

Sciurus: eyes narrow and turn red Bad Hawwy, bad! whacks him on the head with a Tofurkey Let this be a lesson for us all! Harry falls unconscious And to all a good night!

Sciurus: By the way, her name's Eleanor, not Becky pats donkey on the neck

Breathtaking: Ch.1: Neville's Nightmare

Neville stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth as quickly as possible. Although it was a Saturday, Neville had intended to be up earlier than this. It was already eleven o'clock! As he massaged his gums with the toothbrush, he stared at the mirror, receiving a reflection of the world behind him. Seamus was snoring peacefully, and Ron was absent; he was at Quiddich practice. Cormac McLaggen lay straight as a board in his bed, occasionally flinching and whimpering. The enormous boy had troubles, just like everyone else, only his troubles involved belt buckles.

Neville only hoped that Luna wouldn't be too mad at his tardiness; Luna was supposed to help him with charms. Although the girl might be a little bit odd, Neville grinned as he thought the biggest understatement in Hogwarts history; she was capable of charming anything! She was going to help him with the incredibly complicated Sentience Spell. When he heard about the Charms project, in which he would use a Sentience Spell in tandem with an Animation Incantation, where he would have to create a moving, thinking, object, he had flipped out, and was thankful when Luna offered him her help in exchange for helping her to cultivate a Warsaw Dream-Catcher, a Venus Fly-Trap which would catch nightmares that had been sent to you.

The boy's pensive wanderings of thought were disturbed by a rustling he heard in sheets. He turned around, and saw out of the corner of his eye that the movement had come from Harry's bed. Harry was captain of the Quiddich team! Neville ran to wake Harry up, knowing Harry would berate himself for being tardy to the practice that he himself was supposed to be captaining! A foot stuck out from under the sheet.

Neville noticed things a lot, and he gathered his observations into an accordion folder in his mind whenever it appeared he was merely being silent. Harry's feet were five and a half sizes larger than this one, and his feet were darker than the appendage that jutted out from Harry's bed. The foot was small, almost dainty; Harry had never had big feet anyhow, but now they were very small! The foot was a creamy white in colour. Neville stared for a minute or two, archiving that foot in his mind. Had he seen a foot like that elsewhere? Did it look in the least bit familiar in any way shape or form?

Harry's love life had not been inactive; Neville knew all about Harry's exploits with Cho and Ginny. Neville assumed that perhaps it was one of Potter's female consorts. No, Neville concluded after a minute's careful scrutiny. He had never seen a foot like that belonging to anybody he had ever met before. Gulping, Neville flexed his fingers, hearing the telltale brittle sound of his knuckles crack. A knot of fear formed itself in the pit of his stomach as he knew that something wasn't right. Shakily, he extended his fingers, his hand, and then his arm slowly toward the comforter, his arm moving slowly like a ponderous large vessel of a ship sailing through molasses. He owed it to Harry to wake him up for Quiddich, right? He touched the edge of Harry's quilt, and withdrew his hand as if he was on fire. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Neville withdrew the quilt quickly, and his hand leaped back to his side, where it belonged.

Eyes still closed, Neville said as his voice faltered, "H-H-Harry, time to get up! You don't want to miss Quiddich practice!" Neville opened his eyes a crack, staring at the bathroom mirror, anywhere but at Harry, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw something bounce as Harry jumped up, suddenly wide awake.

"Oh no!" Harry exclaimed, staring at a magical clock shaped like a fish that swam around in a bowl of something that looked like golden honey. That was a present for Harry from Luna. The fish-clock appeared to be a silver magical Ramora, the fish of sailors. Its eyes were blue-green, and the fish occasionally jumped up in pure joy, and the light glinting off the fishes' scaled sides seemed to be its equivalent of laughing. The fish had nostrils, which struck Neville as odd, but he guessed that it was another Luna oddity that needed no explanation.

Neville listened to Harry's voice, and winced. It was jarring, not right. It was off pitch from the voice that Harry normally spoke with. Of course, this happened often, whenever Harry was angry, sad, or very happy. But, at most, there was only about half a tonal of discrepancy from his average pitch, even when voice inflection was thrown into the picture. Whereas now, Harry's voice was off by an octave or two. Higher. Neville's eyes shifted downward to the floor, and at last, getting up his courage, he sharply jerked his eyes over to Harry's strange feet.

His other foot was the same as his new one, small and slender. Up. His legs were fleshier than his old ones, but overall they were still smaller. Up. Potter was still relatively thin in the stomach, not much more flesh there, although his rippling muscles were gone. Up. His pectoral muscles had either swelled in size or…

Wait! Neville jerked his eyes away, and then, out of the corner of his eyes, looked back. No wonder he thought something had bounced when Harry leaped to his feet! He was no expert on cup size, but Harry was a moderate sized B, if not a C! Neville couldn't help but stare at Harry's chest, until finally even Harry noticed Neville's gaze.

"You know, Neville," Harry remarked conversationally, "I never would have known that you swing that way. Just don't look lower…" As if controlled by proverbial puppet strings, Neville's gaze swung sharply downward. The normally conspicuous bulge in that area was gone. He craned his neck downward to get a better view, although it gave him a painful crick; he had to look further down than normal. By a lot. His eyes snapped to the top of Harry's head; he didn't want to see Harry's face, he wanted to assume that it wasn't Harry, he wanted to cling to the last threads of reality there were. He stared at the top of Harry's head. He estimated the height; Harry was about 5'3" now, as opposed to his usual 6'2". Neville himself was of a moderate height; he was around 5'9" and still growing. Seamus was about 5'11" and Dean cashed in at a petite 5'7." Ron was the bumbling red-haired giant, all six feet and three inches of him. Even the petite Dean, if he were standing next to Harry, would tower over him now.

"Look at my face, Neville, why won't you look at my face? You're scaring me! Is something wrong?" Neville's throat went dry; he couldn't tell Harry how much was wrong! He felt a somewhat calloused hand reach up to grab his face and tilt his chin downward, so that he was staring straight into Harry's eyes. Harry's new hands still bore the badges that were his bruises from Quiddich, but they were softer. He stared at Harry's face.

The eyes were unchanged. They were still the brilliant green that they were before. The scar was still there, but much fainter; Neville had to squint to see it. Harry's eyelashes were somewhat longer, and his lips were marginally thicker. His hair was the same. His scream was higher pitched…

Harry shrieked bloody murder at a pitch which made Neville flinch. Harry started trembling. With shaking hands, he touched a hand to his face. He gaped, open-mouthed, at something which Neville saw directly. Harry shook his head disbelievingly; no, this couldn't be, he must have assured himself mentally, Neville figured. Harry ripped off his black boxers, which now extended far beyond his knees, looking like some sort of ridiculous dress. With hands that quivered a bit, he stroked his upper legs in surprise and horror, touching his crotch area before his hand alighted quickly from it. Neville tried to stop Harry as Harry pulled his old inherited Grateful Dead T-shirt over his head. Harry slapped Neville's hand away, and in one quick fluid motion, pulled it off.

Neville was not an entirely asexual creature, although he was nowhere near as horny as his average male teenage counterparts. And so, Neville reassured himself that the reason that he still stared at the nude Harry was just because that even though he wanted to look away, he couldn't. It was like watching an explosion on the television (that his Muggle cousin Jeffrey, who was his age, had told him about); you didn't want to see it, but you had a stronger want not to miss it. Harry narrowed his eyes and, too shocked to panic, was dead calm. As if he was a connoisseur methodically inspecting a gourmet cheese, he poked his chest. When he felt something, he frowned and narrowed his eyes. Now that he was naked, the slow but chill breeze from the frigid north which made its leisurely way through the dormitory caused his nipples to firm up and become erect. Harry's eyes widened and Neville could only imagine the sensitivity he was feeling, and the former boy slowly touched his right nipple. His hand moved down a bit, dragging on the skin of his hardened nipples, and Neville assumed that Harry must have felt a rush of incredibly unfamiliar feelings. Harry fell down unconscious in shock, and Neville stared in horror at the naked cataleptic body. Neville propped Harry's head up on a pillow, and ran over to Harry's bed, got his quilt, was about to drag Harry's blanket on top of him, when Harry let out a low moan, or at least a moan low for his new vocal cords. Neville dropped the blanked ran over to Harry's side, and leaned over the neo-girl, investigating to see if in fact he was all right.

Neville heard a sound at the door, and turned around, and saw Ron staring at him. Neville realized how the situation had looked; he was leaning over a naked, curvaceous, black-haired girl in the middle of their dormitory floor!

Ron sputtered, unsure of what to say. "Uhh… Umm… Aah…," he mumbled. "Sorry!" He exclaimed suddenly, preparing to run out.

"Stop!"

… just 2 clarify things, the reason that Harry started taking off his clothes was because that he needed to see if he really wuz a girl and he wuz a bit nuts anyway! Whut did u think, that Harry was giving Neville a strip tease? I mean, come on! He realized he might b a girl becuz… actually, I'll review a story of anyone who could guess how he figured it out!


	2. Chapter 2

Breath-Taking Chapter 2: Ron's Revelation

Just curious, did you guys like it in Neville's pov? It should be obvious who Neville will end up with!

Ron had returned from his Quiddich practice with a smile on his face. Even though Harry was mysteriously absent, Ron had played pretty well. He walked through the doorway, and saw something that scarred him for life…

Neville was practically straddling a naked girl! Short of taking Ginny to the Yule Ball, Ron had never known Neville to be a sexual creature of any sorts. He remembered how a second or two ago he had heard a strange moaning sound… Eew! Ron shook his wild red hair as if he was a wet dog. Of course, after Quiddich practice, he probably smelled like one! He'd need to take a shower, a _cold _shower. The girl was definitely not ugly, to say the least. No, this chick was no Millicent Bulestrode! But still, he did not want to see Neville do anything to the girl… He'd leave, and once they were done doing… whatever they were doing, he'd take a much-needed shower!

He said awkwardly, "Uhh… Umm… Aah…," he mumbled. "Sorry!" Ron exclaimed suddenly, preparing to run out.

"Stop!" He stared at Neville, who had by this time managed to wrap, nay, mummify, the girl in Harry's quilt, who was awake now; although she didn't open her eyes or speak, he heard her move around a little. Ron wrinkled his nose. He didn't want to know about the strange fantasies those pair had!

"This isn't what it looks like, Ron. I'm serious. But really, allow me to introduce you to this wonderful girl that you might know." The girl muttered,

"Please, Neville. I'm not ready for that yet." Neville sighed.

"I'm sorry; I'll explain to you later, ok?" The girl weakly protested. Ron narrowed his eyes; what was Neville doing to the girl?

Neville gulped. "I proudly present to you, the one, the only, the brave, the magnificent, the _beautiful,_" he added in a taunting voice, "the wonderful Haaaarry Potter!" He shoved the petite girl and pulled the quilt, which unrolled from her body.

Ron was floored, too floored to realize the last two words out of Neville's mouth. His brain receded in the wake of another organ that, at times like this, did his thinking for him. He stared at the naked girl with a fully unobstructed view for the first time, and although Ron refused to admit this to anyone, he hoped it wasn't the last time. In several senses of the word, the girl was gorgeous. Her short black hair made her look almost like a guy, so it made her feminine features look even bigger. Ron stared at the girl's naked chest. For a 5'3" girl, she was big, with about a C-cup bust. Ron felt a not too unfamiliar stirring 'below the belt' as he stared at the girl's exquisite upper body anatomy.

The girl put her hands over her bare chest, and it was all he could do not to sigh in disappointment! The girl sounded sad as she pleaded,

"Don't look at me like that, Ron, _please _not like that!" She sounded like she was about to cry. Ron looked up at her face. Her sparkling green eyes were filled with sadness, and, was that _fear? _It was a look of wild fear, bordering on petrified. The eyes were familiar…

Neville sighed. "This might be hard to believe, Weasley, but this is Potter. Something happened to him." Ron snorted. How could this fine work of feminine flesh be Harry? All too easily, Ron saw, as Neville parted the girls' bangs, revealing a very thin, faint, all too familiar emblem of a lightning bolt scar.

"H-H-Harry?" Ron asked, mortified and embarrassed. He tried not to believe it, as he stared down at the small feminine form that was quivering with fear. Neville broke the tension with a loud sigh.

"I'm very sorry, Harry, Ron," he explained, nodding his head to each in turn, "but since you two know one another better, perhaps it would be less awkward… Besides, I have to meet with Luna now." Harry sighed, pleading Neville with his eyes.

"Please don't leave, Neville! It would make things _more _awkward because we know each other!" The unspoken message was clear; Harry was fearful that Ron would jump him or something. Ron bristled with righteous anger. How dare Harry think that he would succumb to lust! What lust? He had no lust! Ron tossed his head proudly, and then nodded his head vigorously, almost savagely, and with an equally savage grin declared,

"That sounds just fine to me, Longbottom!"

Ron gulped, and stared at the now very attractive Harry James Potter. When he talked to Harry, his voice naturally did what it did whenever he was around girls; he sounded deeper and more mature, with a hint of arrogance thrown in.

"Here Harry, let's get you some clothes." The naturally masculine 'I'll-take-care-of-my-girl' tough guy tone of voice did not escape Harry's notice.

"I'm a man, Ron! You know that, right?"

"Of course I do!" Ron said in that same voice.

Holding clothes in hand, Ron stared at Harry's chest again subconsciously. He just had to touch it! He just had to! Then, when he felt nothing when he did so, and he would, of course, feel nothing, he could truly admit that he felt nothing- for _any _of Harry, even Harry's round, curvy… Ron quickly steered his thoughts from those directions. Just one little touch… Ron positioned his arm so that when he walked past Harry, his hand would brush across Harry's breasts. (Harry was sitting on a bed facing outwards and Ron was walking to a dresser drawer ninety degrees from where Harry sat. When he walked toward the dresser drawer, his hand would brush across Harry's breasts, and hopefully, Ron thought, Harry's nipples.)

And so, Ron walked past Harry, set his hands at the perfect angle, and slowed down. As his hand went slowly across Harry's right breast, going over the nipple, he heard Harry's sharp intake of breath, which sent an arrow of heat to his groin. Then, as he continued walking, his hand went across her left breast. As it reached Harry's left nipple, Harry shuddered, and then grabbed Ron's hand. Ron wondered if Harry now saw him the same way he now saw Harry, as Harry took Ron's hand and put it up against her cheek. Ron had trouble, even in his mind, calling someone so effeminate a 'he,' someone so effeminate who was now smiling sweetly at him. Ron grinned, trying to lose himself in the moment, trying to forget that it was his best mate, his best formerly _male _mate, who now caused butterflies to nest in his stomach.

Harry smiled sweetly, and brought a slender leg closer to Ron. Ron breathed in and out deeply, trying to maintain a relative sense of calm. And then, Ron screamed. It was a scream both high and low at the same time. He clutched his groin in intense pain, and saw Harry leaning over him, looking both smug and concerned. When Harry leaned over him, she gave him an excellent view of her newly acquired- and excellently shaped- cleavage. He was just a man, Ron reasoned, he couldn't help it! Harry had been one up until a few days ago, why did she tantalize him like this? Ron licked his lips, only-half aware of what he was doing, and squirmed. When Harry saw this, she sat up again rather quickly.

"Sorry," Harry conceded, "I'm not used to being like," she, uh, he gestured at the sides of **his** chest, "this."

"That's ok," Ron said in that deep, mature 'masculine' voice of his, "to let you know, I didn't really mind!" Harry's eyes narrowed, and without mercy, she kicked him there again. Ron gasped in pain, with a look that asked Harry why he had turned into such a traitor. Had the former boy forgotten how much that _hurt? _

As if in answer to his question, Harry said to Ron, "I'm sorry; trust me, I know that it hurts, but if you go all weird on me, I will not hesitate to kick you for a third time."

"You know," Ron remarked, "you look cute when you're angry and cross your arms like that."

_THWACK!_

Ron grimaced, his eyes clouded with pain; this was going to be a _long_ day.


	3. Chapter 3

Breath-Taking: Chapter 3

Hey guys, I'm back again! Did you miss me? Didn't tink so… Anyway, this next chapter does not involve Harry, it involves Neville and Luna. This story will eventually end up NL, and RH. Strange, isn't it? Ja, I thought so. Anyway, I've done some research on Harry Potter stuff, and Wicca stuff, to get some information on Pentagrams et. Cetera, so this will be really accurate. Btw, just because Harry's turned into a girl doesn't mean that the war is done! This book is Post-HBP, and will conform to the book as much as possible considering the fact that Harry no longer has male genitals!

Neville was quite happy to get out of the room; the atmosphere was just literally charged with emotions! From Harry, it was fear, and anger at both Neville and at Ron, because that Ron was practically emanating… Lust? Neville shuddered, and, gathered his coat around him to ward off the chill September air. Today was September 3rd; term had started three days ago. When he had first arrived and heard about the special project, he had flipped. Luna had offered to help him; he was to meet her by the Lupin Memorial Tapestry, as the Slytherins had cruelly billed it. In a little known corner on the third floor, there was a tapestry of an evil-looking werewolf half-shifted; it was, essentially, a wolf with human-sized limbs walking on its hind legs. The werewolf had a beautiful, naked lady pushed up against a wall, and his fangs were poised at her throat, ready to bite. This was one of the few non-animated portraits, except in the background, rumor said that there was unicorn in the far-off trees, and though you never saw it move, you'd always see the dab of white that was said to be the unicorn, in a different place every time you went there. Neville patted his jacket and pulled out Trevor; although the toad was never very helpful, he always gave Neville a sense of comfort.

Here in the little-known corners of the school, a sense of comfort was definitely needed. Bats flitted through all of the portraits, which all depicted Victorian era witches and wizards dressed in dresses, suits, and spats clearly from older days. Clearly used to this disturbance of the bats, they held up white lace parasols spattered with fecal matter to stop the onslaught. The bats converged at a portrait of an enormous bat-human-gargoyle thing. The picture frame had a gold nameplate on it, saying

'Morsmordre, King of darkness.' Morsmordre opened glowing green eyes, revealed pointed yellow teeth, and stared at Neville, who was transfixed with fear. Wasn't the spell to cast the Dark Mark called that? Neville stared at the creature of darkness, surrounded by his minions, and saw, in the far background of the painting, a very clear, shining star. Neville smiled, and no longer was afraid. When he looked back again, Morsmordre was different; his eyes were red and black, he was smaller, and less humanoid; a common vampire bat. The star expanded, until the entire sky was blue and white; it was day. Morsmordre yawned, wrapped his wings around himself as if they were a blanket, and went to sleep, snoring lightly. Neville touched the painted bat, which stirred lightly, and a smile stretched on the bat's lips. Trevor croaked, sending Neville back to earth.

Luna turned to him, a smile on her face.

"Well, let's start, shall we? First, I'm going to give you an example of the two spells. I spent about a month preparing the candles and the pentagrams and the incense, so you'll have to make your own. I just figured I'd get a head start on next year, but instead I'll give you an example of the spells." She pulled out an exquisitely crafted item. Neville stared at it; it was made out of gold, with rubies inset all over the place. It's eyes were two orange chips of citron. It was, in short, beautiful. It was a small. Trevor poked his head out of the pocket, and his buglike eyes widened; the object was a frog. Neville laughed.

Luna lit an incense stick smelling of the bark of trees stained dark by rain, with emerald moss in the backround. She put the incense in the mouth of a small incense-holding gold dragon. She lit a black candle, a white candle, and, strangely enough, a candle that was Scotch plaid. She put the frog in a pentagram drawn with a strange form of chalk. She held the incense stick up to the frog, blew some of the scent over it, and then, kissed the frog on the lips, put her wand in between its eyes, lowered her mouth to where the frog's ear would be if it had ears, and whispered a word Neville couldn't hear. With a flare of gold, a frog formed from the curling incense smoke hopped into the golden frogs' mouth. The golden frog blinked, and hopped from the pentagram onto Luna's palm. She then whispered another word in its ear, and then in an explosion of black light, the frog came out, looking exactly the same as before. That must have been the Sentience spell, but why it required apparently so little effort, Neville didn't know. Luna silently dropped the frog lightly into Neville's palm.

"Here," she breathed quietly, "this is for you. And Trevor. The frog is a girl by the way." Neville almost teared up, though why he didn't know.

"Wow Luna," he said, "I think that's the nicest present that anyone's ever given me!" She smiled, and Neville looked into her eyes, and they were as deep as the stars. Their little moment was interrupted by Trevor hopping next to the golden frog, and made some strange alien croaking sounds deep in his throat. Neville raised an eyebrow with a strange smile, knowing that Trevor really liked the frog.

"So, we'll start tomorrow. Meet me in the Library this time, instead of back here. I just needed a dark secluded place to do the spells." Neville smiled, and walked away, touching Morsmordre one last time. Luna smiled and started to scuff out the chalk pentagram with a toe of her boot.

"Hey," Neville said, "Luna, do you want me to walk with you over to Hufflepuff? I've never seen it before," he quickly lied. She gave him a strange glance.

"Yeah," she said, "I'd like that."

Ja it's shorter than my other chappies; I kno! Sooooo, r u guys gonna review or not? Nxt chapter will be about Harry/Ron.

I'm also starting an L/J fic called 'Per Iocum'


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